Disarming
by clever.tricks
Summary: Zahir is an attentive squire; he seeks only to satisfy his knight-master.


_A/N: Written for Goldenlake SMACKDOWN, 2011._

Jon and Zahir tried not to laugh as they burst, one after the other, through the door into Jon's rooms. Though they had thought themselves exhausted after an afternoon on the practice courts, their disciplined jog back to their quarters had somehow turned into a race. Jon had fared worse of the two, but, as he insisted, it had hardly been a fair competition; he was still leaden with full armour, whilst Zahir bore only his cotton shirt and breeches. Why, as Jon pointed out, he may as well have been wearing nothing at all!

Though he was out of puff, Zahir set about removing his knight-master's armour.

"I'll be grateful when you've had enough practice with this armour that I no longer need to give you every opportunity to put in on and take it off me," Jon sighed, "It's tiresome at the best of times, but it's not like I get a proper chance to use it, these days."

"I don't mind doing your armour, sire. I do need the practice, and it's all the same whether I get it here, or in a battlefront fortress, or out the back of a jousting contest," came Zahir's voice from down near Jon's legs.

"Well, you're getting good at it, even if I can't give you the proper practice. Some fellows would say you're wrong about the setting, though. Most knights prefer arming out in the thick of things, with all the excitement of impending combat. "

Zahir's fingers worked at a buckle, brushing Jon's calf in something of a caress.

Jon looked down at the kneeling boy, a slight smile tugging at his mouth. "Still, I daresay there are _some _perks to being the King's squire."

It was a little while before Zahir mildly replied, "There are different sorts of excitement, sire. I seek to perfect all my duties. I appreciate all the practice I can get."

"Yes, when I can actually give it to you."

When Jonathan's armour was removed and set aside for cleaning, Zahir enquired, "Do you require my assistance undressing, majesty?"

Jonathan gaped. "I beg your pardon, Zahir?"

"I have just removed your armour, sire. I wondered whether you require the same for your other garments."

"…you have never offered to do so before, Zahir."

"I never thought you would say yes before, sire."

"And what, pray tell, made you think this time would be different?"

"Servants dress and undress their lords all the time, majesty."

"A squire is not a servant, Zahir, and frankly I never thought I'd hear you calling yourself one!"

"Every man is a servant of the King, sire."

Jonathan stared. "Be that as it may, I am capable of removing my own garments."

Zahir allowed not a whit of emotion to waver his dispassionate face. "As you wish, sire. I'll go and tend to your gear."

"Thank you, Zahir."

He bowed and retreated to his room, leaving the joining door half open. His short hair was still wet with sweat from their childish race, and as he slipped his shirt off over his head, his back glistened with it. The boy evidently didn't cool off easily. Zahir looked up when he sensed Jon watching from the doorway. Jon himself was startled to find himself standing there, gazing directly into the boy's eyes. Apparently his legs had transported him several steps without consulting him first.

"Have you come to inspect my work, sir?"

The silence broke only when Zahir had the courtesy to look away. "Yes, that's right, I've come to inspect you." Zahir raised his eyebrows, but Jon didn't seem to notice.

"My lord, once you've changed, perhaps I should take those clothes to the palace tailors. They don't seem to fit you very well, now I think about it. Those hose in particular seem very tight."

Jon was startled. "Do you think so? I hadn't noticed, but perhaps I've put on a bit of weight recently. I haven't been able to exercise much lately, and I can't have grown out of them any other way, can I, as much as I hate to admit it." His wry smile gave Zahir the courage he needed.

"Majesty, I do believe you are growing before my very eyes."

Jon blinked, and looked down. "Zahir, you may be right. These hose _do_appear entirely too small for me." He looked back up into Zahir's eyes before he conceded, "Very well, Zahir, you may undress me. I daresay you need the practice, anyway."


End file.
